Tuesday, May 31, 2016

Decades would pass, majority of my life really, before I knew they had a name.
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From age 3, I knew where the best was to be found.
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Yards were St. Augustine & a few bushes, palm trees, Spanish moss, an oak here/there, oleander, bottlebrush, hibiscus, rubber plant, gardenia, after a rain crawdaddy's came to the curb from their home just inside the grates, peak interest, only at night, the hoot owl.
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What was the best? Always, the ditches. Mysterious things grew in the ditches, lush, loose, even the birds were different than in the yards.
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Fragrance too. Decades later Pat Conroy described this particular love, I had fallen, early, for the charms of pluff mud, always present in the ditches. I grew up on a tiny sliver of land between marsh, bay, creek, lake.
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This isn't about pluff mud, it's about the verges growing in pluff mud. First love.
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Elsewhere, most-where, verges are redolent of man's lack of stewardship. Great irony when a deer lays dead upon a shorn verge. A narrative thick with layers of abdication. No worries, this isn't about that either. Let's get to the heart of the matter, that great love.
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Beautiful verges, below.

Pic, above, I shot in Elk Horn, Kentucky.
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Wish I could head for Elk Horn, KY today. Meander every verge, not reaching, not even close, the speed limit. Staying with my friend Diana, at her farm, open/wooded, meandering stream, with tall verges, of course.
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There are seasonal road trips, train trips, biking trips to enjoy scenic Fall. The best, well advertised.
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Why not seasonal road trips for the best verges? Where is the advertising for that?
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Both verges, above, due to the same spirit. Lack of budget to mow more. (Can-we-get-an, Amen.)
.Lady Bird got it about verges. Long gone, she'll continue doing more for USA than her husband did as president.
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Much happens, for our good, in verges. Of course, the verge is a prophet without honor.
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Enjoy your verges. I'm so greedy I wish I could see/know what is in all of yours.
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From age 11, to present, I've had the American Pie soundtrack sentence, tweeked, in my head, looking at beautiful verges, 'Can understanding this, save your mortal soul?' Verges & gardens are my music.
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Garden & Be Well, XO T